art, innocence, memory

clear, white, green vs red and reds that lean toward yellow

back in l.a. after an extended weekend in new york. more on that later. first, there are a few things on my mind....

while i was there i went to visit a friend’s studio and we talked art. we are both feeling the drain, albeit for very different reasons. while i was there i thought about my own process, how so much of it is informed by the things i’ve experienced, what i hope for, what steals my soul from my body. how my desire to be understood and to understand, forgiven and to forgive in return (oh, st. francis! one day i will light a candle and recite the words in the porziuncola!) marks for me the worth of my work.

the day before i left another friend gave me a book. i read the first hundred or so pages as the sun was rising, illuminating brooklyn, new york, and in a few hours, the coast i call home. as i was reading i was struck with the realization that innocence must be lost. one can hold onto it, but all the strength of this broken world cannot bind it to one’s body for very long. it made me wonder who on this earth is lucky enough to hold onto it the longest?

in the book, the protagonist is plagued by her memory. her innocence was lost. she navigates the world through color and art. she is catholic. she visits the clares and the scene is so beautiful and heartbreaking i almost burst into sobs on my flight. the author lives in l.a. so her character often drives up an down the coast. i can relate. the view of endless ocean does wonders...even in the complete darkness of night. was this book written just for me? my memory always fails me until the very last moment...

so, these things. these undefinable, incredibly complex, unique to each person, cathartic, beautiful, sad, full of truth things. they are on my mind. funny how it takes getting out of your own hood to see things clearly. a prophet is never appreciated in his own town, and i bet he/she could never think clearly there either.

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